Fostering Relationships

It is four in the morning. I can hear the high-pitched bark of our eight-week-old foster puppy Bandit. I quickly swing out of bed, grab my housecoat, and head to the kitchen. When I get there, the kitchen is already lit up like midnight Christmas shopping at Wal-Mart! But, it smells more like a barnyard at sun-up. Ward has already punched in; he is standing in the puppy pen, surrounded by shredded newspaper, and all kinds of puppy “business”. He is gathering garbage at the same time as he is slinging a mop back and forth. He is muttering things under his breath. As his mop moves forward, Baylor jumps on it with playful paws, and Ward leans over and pushes him aside. As he pushes him aside, Baylor slips and now has poopy puppy paws, and requires a little mopping up himself! This “game” continues for the next several strokes. Bandit, on the other hand, is standing with his front paws on the grate; he continues to bark like a seal until I reach in and pick him up. He wiggles and licks my face as if he is the child and I am the lollipop. He whinnies like a horse. (He might be a ventriloquist when he is older!)

We have been a foster family for the Calgary Humane Society for the past three and a half years. There have been so many animals through our revolving door; I cannot accurately give a count (Laurèn could!). I am going to estimate…twenty, or more. Kittens often come with littermates, so that could be a gross underestimate. You get the idea.  It is a volunteer job, and thus no money exchanges hands. They do not pay us, nor do we have to pay for the pleasure, (Well, we DO pay—but not financially). Depending who you talk to, the perception of this volunteer job is varied. Some of the kid’s friends have said, with enthusiasm, “You get to do this for free?” While their parents might look across the scuffed and worn floor, and ask, “Why…why would you do this?” or pulling kleenex from their purses, they ask, "How can you bear to give them back?" (It's really not as hard as you would think--I casually respond.) My close friends take it a step further—“Have you gone crazy?”—they ask, "Six kittens...Really?"

It’s obvious, right? I am crazy. No, that’s not what I meant. It’s obvious why we take in these fosters…or, more specifically why I take in these fosters. Because they make me feel good. They make all of us feel good—sometimes. (Not so much at four in the morning…or eleven at night. Or when they jump from our kitchen island onto our leather dining chairs and land, claws extended, and slide all the way down. Or when they get frightened and "hit the deck" and then pee straight up, all over themselves.) But, other than that...we feel good, we are making a difference.

We started the foster program because of animal loving Laurèn. It seemed like a benign way to experience more animals, without adding more pets to the family! But, I might also be accused of not really thinking it all the way through. It is A LOT of work. And the “head of the house” bears the brunt of that work, with a little bit of help from the underlings. The underlings love the cuddling part of the job.

Although we started it because of Laurèn, everyone (except maybe Ward) has experienced some benefit in the presence of our foster animals. They need us, and we can care for them in a way that we can’t always care for each other. However, when we reach out to care for this other vulnerable living thing alongside one another, it brings us closer. We laugh more together, especially when we have kittens. A kitten carefully placed can ease tension like no other remedy we have tried. Especially with our emotional tweens and teens.

So, if you think that I am crazy, think again. I am crazy brilliant!

Bandit and Baylor.